


Every Candle Needs A Light

by QueenofNaps



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Light Is Not Kira, Angst, Bad Parenting, Competition, Crack and Angst, Dorks in Love, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff, Homelessness, Homophobia, Love Triangles, M/M, One-Sided Amane Misa/Yagami Light, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rescue, Romantic Comedy, Soulmates, Teen Angst, Teen Romance, Teenage Drama, Unrequited Love, Wammy House
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-12 06:03:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19223107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofNaps/pseuds/QueenofNaps
Summary: When Light gets kicked out of the house after admitting to his parents that he's gay, he gets taken in at Wammy's House by Watari, where he develops a crush on the smartest guy in school, Ryuzaki. However, there's a slight problem. Everyone else at Wammy's House has a crush on either Light or Ryuzaki, so it's very difficult for them to have a relationship without the taste of jealousy in the air. Did I mention that they are also in competition with each other as to who is the smartest in Wammy's House. Yep, things are gonna get complicated.Can Light and Ryuzaki pull through? Can their love survive all the drama and complications?





	1. Light's Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> So this is a fanfic which I did in 2017, under the pseudonym, Glittering Firebolt. I had a realisation that I had some fics on Wattpad and Fanfiction.net, that I had put on hold, because I stopped using those sites and then just forgot to finish them. I can't log into my Fanfiction.net account (Why on earth don't I write down my passwords) so the fic is still there, but it was fairly popular and I miss writing it, and people wanted to know what happened, so I'm reviving it.  
> Enjoy :)

Friday 25th August 2017. That was the day it all began. It was the day that I, Light Yagami, perfect son and honours student, would confess to my parents a secret that was destroying me for over a year. Since I had a reputation of being the most intelligent student at my school, I’ve never really had any interest in the girls at my school. Instead, I would focus my interests on maintaining my reputation, by constantly studying.

As soon as I would get home from school, I would sit down at my desk and study, using my signature notebook. I had a special notebook which I used when I had to solve difficult academic problems. It was a small black notebook, with the words ‘Death Note’ written on it in white writing. I even used a feather quill pen, as using it made me not only feel more intelligent, but also more refined and mature. I liked items that made me seem refined which is why, every day, I wore a suit.

My favourite suit was a brown suit with a red tie, which I liked to wear as much as possible. Anyway, I thought it was really clever how I used this ‘Death Note’ when I solved ‘deadly’ problems. I always have had a sense of humour. My sense of humour and my intelligence had gotten me quite popular at my school, but despite the fact that I may have seemed very popular, I was smart enough to know that my so-called friends were fake. And how did I know this, may you ask?

Easy. My friends never texted or called me, and they would always go out to places without me. At first when I figured this out, I was incredibly hurt but then, after a while, I decided to use this time, where I would sit on my bed feeling miserable and lonely and try to better myself through my studies. I used this as an excuse to why I was never interested in the girls in my school but then, one fateful day, something happened that changed my perspective of this.

I was getting changed for gym class where, that particular day, we were playing football. While I was getting changed, something, or rather someone, caught my eye. One of the boys, who was the object of the affection of many of the girls in my year, had taken his top off and it didn’t take him long for him to notice that I was staring at him. When he began walking towards me, with his beautiful tanned chest exposed for everyone to see, and his golden blonde hair flapping around his face, I began to feel incredibly embarrassed.

He propped his face inches away from mine but instead of being angry, as I suspected him to be, he smirked and put his lips inches away from my ear, as he whispered seductively, “I saw you staring at me, Light.” I became rather flustered and nervously stated "N-no I didn’t” but before I could even finish that sentence, he placed his lips against mine and oh god, it felt good. I remember it clearly, his cherry flavoured lips against mine. It was perfect. I was absorbed in the moment.

It was when he walked away, when I noticed everyone in the locker room stare at my flustered face. They saw everything. This caused me to be harassed by people in my year, for a while. Stupid statements like “Hey guess what Yagami is, spelled backwards” (which I’ve heard a million times by the way) often escaped from these idiots’ mouths. But I didn’t care. And it didn’t take everyone long to realise that if they bullied me, I wouldn’t help them with their homework. I reckon that’s the reason why they stopped.

The kiss though, made me consider an important question, one that I dreaded thinking about, because of a fear of it being true, ‘Am I gay?’ I thought about this and debated this with myself for at least 6 months. I have kissed a girl before, but I never found it as incredible as my kiss with this boy. And I would often stare at celebrity man, my mind drifting off into outer space and my rationality fading. I tried thinking about women in this way, but it didn’t have the same effect.

Of course, for a long time, I would use studying as my excuse for why I didn’t feel attracted to girls but, after a while, I finally admitted it to myself. I’m gay! And after a long while of hating myself and arguing with my thoughts about what I should do, I decided to finally share this new information with my parents. And this is when our story began.


	2. The Calm Before the Storm

It was the first day back after a very long summer vacation. The weather was beautiful and warm, which directly contrasted to the attitudes of everyone in the classroom. My school started about a week before all of the other schools, so everyone was in a pretty bad mood because of that. Little did I know that the first day back at school would be the catalyst of a new chapter of my life. 

On that fateful day, when it all began, I was sitting in class, bored out of my mind. The teacher was rambling on about something to do with Maths, I don’t know what. In fact, I only knew it was Maths because I could see lots of numbers being written on the whiteboard, so it was only logical to assume that it was Maths that was being taught.

Usually I could concentrate incredibly well in class, but that particular day I couldn’t, because I was too busy engulfed in my own thoughts, thoughts about what would happen when I admitted to my parents that I was gay, that night. Would they have been angry? Or sad? Or even happy, maybe proud of me? I was imagining every scenario that I could think of and calculating how likely it would be for my parents to give that reaction.

I tried to stay cool and collected, as I knew that stress can have a negative impact on the body and the mind. I didn’t want to make any irrational decisions due to stress, for example, refuse to tell my parents for a few more months. Because, if I did that, my secret would have probably been the death of me. 

Over the last few months, I had been feeling more stressed, as a result of hiding my sexuality for so long. With each day that passed, my mind had become more and more consumed by this and I have noticed that I had become more snappy than usual. So, in a way, I guess I was kind of relieved that I was going to tell my parents, that day.

Finally, after what seemed like a thousand years, class was over. So, I packed my books away in the speed of light, (Get the reference?) and hurried out of the classroom. But before I could even reach the classroom door, I was approached by one of the only people with whom I could stand in my school. Kiyomi Takada, a very determined and intelligent individual.

Kiyomi, or Takada as she liked to be called, is a very practical and business minded person, and it was probably because of the way that she was brought up. Her parents ran a technological business, which was fairly new but gradually growing, called Takada and Co, and they were incredibly serious about their work, which may have caused their daughter to develop this mindset.

I read somewhere, that parents can transfer their attitudes about things to their children through their parenting, and as soon as I read that, my thoughts immediately went to Takada, so I’m pretty certain that this alone, proves my point. Anyway, the reason why Takada came to see me that day, was because she had some important news to tell me.

“I’m leaving!” She exclaimed this with a giant smile on her thin pale face. I was really confused. Usually when people spoke, they would say a full statement, for example, Takada could have said that she was “leaving to go here or there”, but then again, I never was one to strike up a conversation, so I acted polite and simply and inquisitively asked, “I’m sorry?”

Luckily, Takada had realised how clueless I was over this whole ordeal, as she explained. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I haven’t told you yet.” She then cleared her throat and began. “I’m working For Takada and Co. as their vice president. My parents think that I’m old enough now to learn how to run the business so that when they retire, which will be soon, I can take over.” Takada then looked down at her feet sadly, and it was at that moment, that I knew that there would be a catch.

“But since I’ll be working at Takada and Co. from now on, this means that I won’t be going to school and therefore, we may not see each other again.” I didn’t exactly know how to react to this. I grew up with Takada, we went to the same primary school and I was used to having her around, so obviously her news would impact me, due to the fact that after that day, I may have never seen her again. But would this have impacted me and my life enough, for me to feel saddened by her news?

The answer was no. I felt indifferent, and my indifference was making me feel guilty. You see yes, I did grow up with Takada, but we were never really that close. We had always been acquaintances, two people who would help each other out with our homework sometimes, but that is as close as we ever became. I was never really close to anyone at school, to be perfectly honest. Still, I had to pretend to be sad, for Takada’s sake.

Just because I never had a proper friend, doesn’t mean that I didn’t know how to act around people. You have to wear a metaphorical mask and hide what you really think. On multiple occasions, there have been things which my so-called friends would say or do that I thought was utter nonsense, (For example, dabbing. What the hell is that?) but yet I would keep quiet and wear my mask, partly because if I didn’t I would cause drama and, to be perfectly honest, I was much happier daydreaming, theorizing and studying.

The reason why I mentioned my metaphorical mask now, is because it linked into my reaction to Takada’s news and my meeting with a certain sugar loving, raven haired boy, who at that moment, I didn’t even know existed. Anyway, as for Takada, I acted saddened but not distraught by her news and, weirdly enough, she seemed to fall for my little act.

We said our goodbyes and then she left, leaving me standing by the classroom door, staring at the baby blue lockers that were right opposite it. Sure, my meeting with Takada did distract me for a little while, but now that she was gone, my very chaotic brain was buzzing around like a bee who was desperately trying to collect honey, for the very impatient and aggressive Queen Bee. Many questions were clouding my mind, but the most prominent one, the one that was sticking out against all the others, was ‘How will they react?’

I waited until 6pm that evening to tell my news. I wanted to have my parents’ full attention, no point spilling my heart to them, only to have them half listening, due to them doing other tasks. I asked for a family meeting at 6pm, luckily my bratty little sister, Sayu, was at her friend’s house, so I could have a mature adult conversation without her irritating whining interfering with it.

As I entered the lounge, where my mom and dad were sitting on the sofa watching TV, I began to feel sick to my stomach and my thoughts were racing around my brain, like race cars participating in a racing championship. The truth was that I was terrified and although throughout the day, I kept trying to push my panicked thoughts down to a corner of my brain in which they would never be found, and I tried to remain as calm as I could, it was at that moment, with my anxious thoughts at their strongest and the realization of what was to come, that I began to feel my logical brain being squashed and burned alive, by the raging fire that was my emotions.

But since I am not one to get emotional about things, even though I felt like screaming and crying and running away to a place where I could never be found, in fact, a place that isn’t even in human existence, I knew that no good would come out of panicking and that the longer I waited, the less logical I would be about this. So, I cleared my throat and began. 

“Mom, Dad”, I exclaimed, trying to get their attention, which I succeeded in doing so, as they both turned their heads at rocket speed and looked at me. I continued speaking. “I’ve noticed something lately. Well, not lately, this has been happening for about a year now.” My mom’s face, at that moment, was that of utter confusion. Huh, maybe I had done a good job with hiding my sexuality that year?

I closed my eyes before I said this next part and tried to remain strong. “The thing is that I’m not attracted to girls. The truth is, well … I’m gay!” My dad’s face when I said that, was of mixed emotions, horror, shock and most prominent of all, anger, and I could tell that he was not happy with what I had just told him. His reaction caused me to question and ponder over something.

He was my father. At a young age he had always helped me with things, things like homework and bullies, typical schoolyard problems, and he had always told me that if I was upset or unsure about anything, anything at all, that I was to come to him and talk to him about it. But why was the fact that I was gay any different? My dad was acting not only hypocritical, but also illogical. I could tell that he was acting illogically by the look on his face, but nethertheless, I tried to explain myself and put some logic and rationality into my dad’s head.

Well that worked brilliantly, didn’t it? I didn’t even manage to finish a whole sentence before my dad truly hit the roof. I remember the event clearly. He was yelling at me viciously, as if I had done something terribly wrong. I tried reasoning with him, but all logical trains of thought were flying out of my brain, with each word that I said. The loss of logic from my brain, caused me to become emotional, which in turn, caused me to start yelling back at him to defend myself, which caused him to yell back at me, causing a sort of toxic chain reaction.

It was then, at the corner of my eye, that I noticed my poor mom, sitting tensely on the sofa, watching us with a scared look on her face. I’ve always considered my mom to be a peaceful person. I can’t recall her ever yelling at me throughout my childhood, not because I never did anything wrong, trust me, I made plenty of mistakes when I was younger, but because she wanted to keep the peace and not cause any drama, which I guess I have to admire.

But in times like these, I did want somebody on my side, somebody to defend my point of view. Little did I know that she would be on my side very soon. And all because of four terrible words that crushed down on me like a ton of bricks, as soon as they were uttered.

“You’re not my son!”


	3. How to Destroy a Life

I couldn’t believe what I had heard. Those very words, which spouted from my dad’s mouth, like venom from a poisonous snake, hit me like flaming knives. I fell silent and felt incredibly hurt, betrayed even. Images flashed in my brain, at that moment.

Photos and little scenes of my dad and I from the past, emerged in my brain. Him helping me to tie my shoelaces, him showing me the equipment in which he uses to catch criminals, as a well-respected police officer. I even remember watching him in awe, as he caught a boy around my age, (I was around 9 or 10 at the time) with messy black hair and baggy clothes, who was guilty of stealing a jar of jam from the local shop.

The boy wasn’t arrested, but I remember him being returned to his dad, with a stern warning. That very occasion gave me a strong interest in justice and, from that moment on, I knew that I wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps, as a police officer.

These flashbacks were playing in my mind like an old movie which could not be stopped, due to the film reel being too damaged. I know this sounds stupid, but it was as if I was the film reel and the damage done to the film reel, was the damage done to my mind, due to my dad’s harsh words.

As I began to think more and more about the memories of my past, tears started to well up in my eyes, I didn’t stop myself from crying though, instead I let the tears fall freely down my face. I didn’t care about remaining logical and not getting emotional anymore. I was too hurt to care.

As for my dad, it was obvious that he felt no pity for me, when he saw how hurt I was. It would have been nice for him to show that he actually cared for me. Maybe a simple “I’m sorry” would have done the trick. Because ever since that moment, and to this day actually, I felt that my dad didn’t love me.

I know some people may think that I’m overreacting. But be honest with yourselves, if you were in my position, wouldn’t you feel the same way? More drama followed after I noticed my dad’s lack of sympathy. My dad accused my crying as fake, calling them ‘crocodile tears’, even though he knew full well that I struggle to even show, let alone fake or exaggerate, my emotions.

It was at this point in my day from hell, that my mom got involved in this drama and, luckily for me, she decided to be on my side. She began screaming at my dad about how he was being unfair and nasty to me and how, instead of acting hateful, he should have been proud of me for having the guts to admit my sexuality to him, as she was proud of me.

Hearing this made me feel happy and calm, but only for a split second. My parents being proud of me for admitting my sexuality, was the scenario that I was hoping for and I was quite relieved, during that split second, that at least one of my parents were proud of me.

However, the terrible, raging storm that was my dad’s screams, which came about as a result of my confession, got worse and worse and interrupted my short-lived feelings of happiness and calmness. My mom’s screams at my dad also got worse and worse so I was just there, stuck in what I’d consider the world’s worst tornado.

Screaming, swearing, crying … I couldn’t bear it. Throughout my entire life, this has never happened before. In fact, I had never heard my parents have a single argument, let alone one this extreme. I was in complete and utter shock and the worst thing, was that I felt that I couldn’t do anything.

My throat felt hoarse and it felt like there was a colossal wedge in it, which prevented me from talking, or even letting out a single sound. My legs felt like jello, wobbling crazily out of fear of movement. I know it sounds crazy, but I felt that if I even took a single step forwards, I would collapse like a very unstable tower of jenga blocks.

As I stood there and watched the scene like a frozen hawk, I saw my dad ignore my mom for a moment, and angrily walk over to me. He grabbed my arm with brute force, force that he must have gained from his many years of harsh, but very effective police training.

I was screaming at him to let me go, desperately trying with all my might to make him stop. His tight grip around my arm was terribly painful. All I could do was try and escape from his grip, although I had no success. He was treating me like an animal that was being captured by poachers to be an exhibit at the local zoo. He shoved the front door open and pushed me outside, where I tripped down my porch steps and fell straight into a freezing cold puddle.

He had the advantage at this point. My dad was in our warm cozy house and I was outside, lying in the puddle, with the rain acting like tiny daggers, stabbing every part of my body. I looked at my dad’s scornful glare while he nastily exclaimed the words which I would never forget. To this day, I remember every single word that he said. I guess you never forget the details of the worst day of your life.

“Don’t even bother to ever set foot in this house again. We don’t want you here. And we never do.” I heard my dad’s voice rising and my mom’s sobs getting louder and louder from the lounge. She must have been too afraid to stand up to my dad at this point. Who could blame her really? I was terrified of him too.

My dad continued his speech of mass destruction. “Nobody will be able to help you and it’s your own damn fault. You have no other family and no friends, and I swear to God, if you call the police, I’ll beat you so hard, you won’t know what hit you.”

I began to shiver, not just because of the cold, but also because of my dad’s words. I had no idea that my dad could act so monstrously and so cruel until that day. He then yelled his final words to me, his face turning as red as a tomato, due to his anger. This would have been funny if my dad wasn’t so damn scary.

“I don’t want to ever see you again”, he yelled before slamming the door shut and locking it behind him, leaving me crying in the rain.


	4. And so the Lights Are Dimmed

I couldn’t believe it. I had been thrown out of my own house. To this day, thinking about that event, hurts me. I was abandoned, that was the thought that was constantly swirling around my head, like a whirlpool, sucking up my logical thoughts. It was raining that day and to be honest, it kind of fitted the mood of this whole scene.

If I hadn’t just been emotionally damaged by the events of that night, I would have thought that it was like a movie scene, where the lead character was upset, and the rain was used as a sort of prop to enhance the emotions of the scene and to captivate the pity of the audience. But sadly, my life isn’t a movie that can be watched and enjoyed, although I wish it was. Life would be much simpler if it was more like a movie.

I had tried for at least half an hour, well it definitely felt like it, banging on the front door of my house and yelling, trying to get the attention of my parents. But no matter how hard I tried and how much my hand felt like it was going to drop off afterwards, there was only silence in that house.

I eventually gave up trying to get my parents’ attention, as I realised that my dad truly didn’t want me in the house, and I eventually walked away into the blackness, rain hailing over my chestnut brown hair, gazing down woefully at the puddles on the dirty ground, wondering what will become of me? Will I die out here? It’s only logical to think that, lots of people die due to a lack of shelter, food or water.

I thought to go to the police station and report what had just happened to me, but then I realised that my dad worked in the police force, and his harsh words were enough to put me in a spiral of panic. Just what I needed on what I consider to be the worst night of my life.

The worst night of my life also felt like the slowest night of my life. It dragged on like the world’s most boring play and, every minute that ticked by, felt like a century. At least I think it was a minute. You see, I didn’t have a watch with me, or my phone, so my perception of time was only slight guesses that may or may not have been accurate.

There were no shops within a 5-mile radius, no one to help me. Although I lived in the Kanto region of Japan, one of the biggest and most crowded areas in the whole country, my housing estate was very secluded and so, if I wanted to get anywhere like school for instance, or if I wanted to go shopping, I had to take the bus or have my parents drive me there. Yeah, that’s really helpful if I’ve been abandoned by my family and I have no money or bus cards with me.

The only thing I could do was walk. In fact, now that I think about it, I don’t think that I would have been able to go to a shop for help anyway. They would have gone to the police and that would have not have ended well for me, with my dad and everything. So, I continued walking, trying to find a suitable destination where I could ask for help.

I knew it was a bad idea to knock on someone’s door and ask for help because they would call the police, so that option was out of the cards. I must have been walking for three hours at least, when the event that changed my life occurred.

It was cold, far too cold. My hands and feet felt like they were going to drop off my body, like icicles falling off a house roof on the coldest winters’ day. What’s worse is that I’m fairly skinny, meaning that I don’t have much fat to keep my body insulated in times like these. My clothes were drenched from the rain and god, I was exhausted, having been walking for ages in these conditions.

I decided to sit down on the pavement for a few minutes and try to let my legs recover. Plus, sitting down gave me the opportunity to try and rationalise my thoughts. As I sat down on the freezing cold pavement, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a figure in the distance and it was then that I noticed that the figure was coming in my direction.

I found it really odd, how there was a person nearby. I was in the middle of nowhere. The place I was in was somewhere where I’d never seen before on bus journeys or car journeys. Then again, I never used a map when I did my long walk that day, and so I didn’t actually know how to get to the busier section of the Kanto region.

I was just guessing and hoping that everything would end up okay, just like it does in the vast majority of stories that I’ve read. As the figure moved closer, I discovered some of its features. The figure was of a man, probably around my age, with a pale face, at least I think it was pale, a scruffy white long-sleeved shirt, baggy trousers and black scruffy hair.

Well, he was certainly very, um … unique. I think that’s the best word to use. The weird thing was that this man wasn’t wearing any shoes. He was completely barefoot which I found to be not only weird, but also crazy. I began to question the sanity of this man.

I mean, what kind of person walks around at night wearing no shoes, on a pavement of all places, where rocks could be digging into his feet? A disturbing thought suddenly then popped into my head. What if this guy was an escapee from the loony bin?

Well that would explain a lot. Like the messy hair and baggy clothes which made him look insane, or a little nutty at the very least. It was at that moment that I noticed that this guy was walking towards me. I was a little confused, but I still continued sitting on the pavement.

I was too exhausted to start my hike to nowhere again and besides, I wasn’t afraid of the man, I just thought that he looked a little nuts. He came and sat down next to me, no not sat, crouched! The best way in which I describe his crouch to you is that of a frog crouching on a lily pad.

Maybe this man was a germaphobe, that was the first thought that entered my head. The pavement was no doubt filled with bugs, insects and germs, ready to infect a person with a horrible disease, preparing to ruin a person’s life, just as my dad did with mine.

I decided to overlook the crouching thing. I was too tired to ask questions. I didn’t even need to ask questions though because, at that moment, the man asked me a question first.


	5. How to Save A Life

“Are you cold? I know I am”, he enquired, staring at me while I was coming up with an answer, acting as if this was an interrogation and he was the interrogator and I was the suspect. I could tell that he didn’t know how to act in a social situation, just by his way of acting in that moment.

He wouldn’t take his eyes off me. In fact, he didn’t even blink and just under his eyes, I noticed that he had giant black eyebags that, combined with his jet-black hair, reminded me of a panda at the zoo. Judging by this, he probably didn’t sleep very often, if ever.

Another feature that I noticed was the tone of voice, in which he spoke in. This man spoke in a very monotonous way. That feature, combined with his other features, showed me that this was a socially awkward and strange man, who probably didn’t have many friends, struggled to grasp the concepts of basic social interaction and who probably possessed a set of very strange habits.

Nevertheless, he didn’t look like he was going to harm me and besides, he only asked me a question didn’t he, so I felt that it was polite to give him an answer. A simple “Yeah, I’m a little cold but I’m okay” should do the trick.

It didn’t do the trick though because as soon as I said that, the man explained, “I can tell you’re not okay. If you were, you wouldn’t be sitting in the rain, especially when it’s as dark and cold as this.” I immediately became defensive. “Well, maybe I like sitting in the rain.” I paused, trying to figure out what I was going to say next.

“Maybe the rain helps me to reflect and rationalize my thoughts.” That was sort of a half-truth. Yes, I like sitting and rationalizing my thoughts, but not in the rain. I could catch something from the freezing cold and may have to spend all day in bed, not being able to achieve anything, my brain slowly turning to mush.

Not that I minded too much that day. Lying in bed feeling sick would have felt like paradise compared to the conditions in which I was in when I met this man. The man continued. “I see.” He stared at me for a bit, which made me feel incredibly awkward. He was acting as if he was trying to suss me out.

I wondered if he was like this with everyone. Probably! He seemed rather strange if you ask me, so I wouldn’t be surprised! Then he said it, those few sentences which made me lose my cool. And when I say, ‘lose my cool’, I mean have a complete and utter meltdown.

“Well, I don’t know the reason why you’re sat here in the cold but it’s getting late. If you tell me where you live, I can get a taxi with you and don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. Sitting here in this weather might make you ill, and that won’t be beneficial for you. And before you ask, no I’m not a kidnapper or a serial killer or anyone like that. I know I can’t officially prove it to you, but you’ll just have to trust me. I just want you to be at home and safe.”

“At home and safe.” Those words circled around my mind like a merry-go-round, faster and faster, practically screaming into my ears, making me lose all sanity, all hope even. It wasn’t even ten seconds after the man had spoken, that I slammed my hand on the ground, not caring that the harsh contact of the slam meant that the tiny but painful rocks were digging into my hand.

“I was abandoned”, I screamed, with tears beginning to well up in my chocolate brown eyes. What was I doing, admitting what had happened to a complete and utter stranger? Had my dignity completely fallen down the drain? Probably, but I was past caring at that point.

“My parents kicked me out of the house. My dad’s a member of the Japanese Police Force and if I went to them, my dad said he would beat me. And I know he’ll do it. I have no other family and no friends. There’s no one to turn to. I have no phone, no money and nowhere to go. So yeah, I’m having the most crap day ever”, I screamed, with tears now streaming down my face and choking my throat.

Each sentence sounded more desperate for help than the last. I didn’t like this new emotional and well, damsel in distress version of me. I had never in my entire life became this emotional, this weak and this much of a victim, but then again, I was never kicked out of the house before.

I glared at the man and saw an emotion flicker within his emerald green eyes. Pity. I felt like such a charity case. Of course, he pitied me, I had just had a breakdown. I was jealous of him though.

I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was a logical person who, judging by what I had seen of him so far, probably didn’t get emotional that easily. And compared to me, who looked and felt like a blubbering baby at that moment, you can tell why I was jealous.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered. Huh, so he felt guilt as well as pity. I don’t know why he felt guilty, he didn’t know that I would break down like that. “It’s fine”, I explained, my throat still being choked with tears. “You didn’t know.”

For about a minute afterwards, there was silence. He was trying to figure out the words that he was going to say. It was obvious by the look on his face, a look of deep thought. The minute’s silence was incredibly awkward. Him and I just sat there, unsure what to say and do next, until finally, he spoke and broke that incredibly awkward silence.

“Since you have nowhere to go, would you like to stay with me for a few days. I’m visiting Japan for a few days, so I’ll be going back to England on Sunday. But I’m staying in Rolledalle which, according to travel experts, is the fanciest hotel in Japan. I’ll pay for everything you need. I just hate to see someone who has just been abandoned, not getting the help which, they deserve.”

I was in utter shock. There were lots of people in Japan who had lost their homes and had nowhere to go and had no one to turn to. Surely, this man had seen some of them around. So why was he so moved by me? I asked him this and he simply responded with, “I believe that you have potential.”

Potential? What the hell did that mean? I was utterly confused but I tried not to think about that and instead, focused on the positives. This man wasn’t lying when he said that Rolledalle was the fanciest hotel in all of Japan. It was!

Of course, I’ve never been. My family’s not rich enough for us to go there. But I’ve heard about Rolledalle and seen pictures of it on the internet. And my god, does it look beautiful. Crystal clear chandeliers, silk bedsheets, ginormous state of the art TV’s.

It must have cost him a fortune to go there and he offered for me to stay with him there and he would pay for everything. This felt like a dream come true. But then there was the issue of my safety. I’d never met this man before. I wasn’t stupid, I had full knowledge of stranger danger. Worst case scenario, this man could have been a serial killer or a rapist or something.

I pondered about this for a little while, but then I decided against it. I was unsure what I was doing but I was lacking hope and would have much preferred to take a risk and go with the man, rather than stay here and, let’s be honest, probably die within a few days.

On a usual day, I would have definitely refused his offer, as my rational side would have kicked in but then again, this was not a usual day and my rationality, and my logical train of thought had been shattered. So, I looked him in the eyes and, in a hoarse croaky voice, whispered, “Yes, please?”

The man smiled, either happy that he could help me or plotting my cruel demise, I could never tell. He offered me his hand, so I could pick myself up and spoke to me. “Well, since we’re acquainted and we’re going to be spending a few days together, we should at least find out each other’s names. My name’s Ryuzaki.”

He smiled and shook my hand. In the past, I never had any proper friends but what I did know, despite this, was how to be polite and interact with others. Maybe I was too polite at school. Yeah, that could have been a possibility.

I took Ryuzaki’s hand, shook it and then afterwards smiled. I then, in the most confident voice I could do, it was tough considering the fact that my confidence had been shattered within a day, said “Nice to meet you, Ryuzaki. My name is Light.”


	6. An Evening to Remember

Well that was the strangest day of my life. First, I was daydreaming in class, then I admitted I was gay to my parents, then I was kicked out of the house and now I was walking to a taxi with a strange young man, Ryuzaki. We walked on a bit until we could signal a taxi and we talked a bit about ourselves.

I knew he was a compete stranger at this point and yeah, maybe I was risking my life going with him but what did I have to lose? I know it sounds cheesy, but I finally had hope that I would have better days than the one I had just had. And despite the fact that I had thought of him as a complete and utter freak at first glance, walking with Ryuzaki for even a little bit, had made me realise that he was good company.

Who knows, maybe even a friendship may develop? This is something which I thought about, when getting to know Ryuzaki. I learnt a fair amount about Ryuzaki on our walk. I learnt that he was a quarter Japanese, but also a quarter British, a quarter Russian and a quarter French. Wow, I didn’t know that somebody could have so many ethnicities.

He also told me that the reason why he was staying in Japan, was because he was the highest scorer in his school at the end of year exams. At the end of every academic year, the students at Ryuzaki’s school would do their end of year exams, and the student who got the highest score overall in these exams, would go on an international holiday in the summer.

That’s so much better than my school. I never got a reward for being a high achiever. I mean, yes, I was the golden child to my parents and I had a reputation for being intelligent in school, but as well as a good reputation, Ryuzaki got to go on holiday. For three years in a row.

I was insanely jealous. But then again, Ryuzaki doesn’t go to an ordinary and frankly shitty school like mine. He goes to Wammy’s House. For those of you who don’t know, Wammy’s House is an elitist boarding school in England, where the world’s most intelligent students go.

I have heard a lot about Wammy’s House and to be honest, I spent an entire year of school, waiting for someone to tell me that I was too smart for school and so, instead I would be transferred to Wammy’s House. But sadly, it never happened. Anyway, the reason why Wammy’s House is so famous is because of L, a student at Wammy’s House and the smartest detective in the world.

L had solved many of the world’s toughest and most dangerous cases. A few years ago, L had solved the world famous ‘Alphabet Murders’, where a vicious murderer, later revealed to the public as Kyosuke Higuchi, one of Japan’s most dangerous criminals, was murdering people based on their initials in relation to the alphabet.

For example, Higuchi’s first victim was pop singer, Asuna Akimoto. His second victim was a banker called Akeno Bunya and his third victim was a teacher called Ayami Chinen. I think you see why this was known as the ‘Alphabet Murders’. Since my name is Light Yagami, I could have been Higuchi’s ‘LY’ victim but luckily, Higuchi didn’t get to ‘LY’.

He did kill quite a few people. I think he got to J’s before he was caught. And after two years of killing innocent people, he was caught by the one and only L. L decided to work with the Japanese Police Force, via a computer screen, with a black letter L on it, in a gothic font.

One thing about L is that he never showed his face to anyone, so nobody had the slightest clue as to who he was. Makes sense really. If I were L, I wouldn’t want anyone knowing who I was. My reasons are most likely the same as his. There are a lot of bad people in the world, criminals who would love to get a sweet taste of revenge to the detective that had caused their downfall.

If they knew L’s real identity, he’d be dead and gone quicker than I can say “Kaboom.” Anyway, back to the ‘Alphabet Murders’, like in many stories, good triumphed over evil and Higuchi was brought to justice. And oh boy, was his arrest all over the news.

It was all I heard for at least a month afterwards, Higuchi this, Higuchi that, “I’ve caught Higuchi.” That last one was my dad, he sure liked to blow his own trumpet about this. And although I idolized my dad for helping to bring Higuchi to justice, the person who I truly admired the most, was L.

Ever since that case, I had always wanted to meet L and to tell him how much I admire him. God, I sound like such a fanboy, I probably am to be honest, but who wouldn’t be a fanboy or a fangirl of the smartest detective in the world. Maybe Ryuzaki knew L? It would be incredible if he did.

It wasn’t just L whom I felt was interesting, I found myself intrigued by Ryuzaki, his quirks, his monotonous way of speaking, his intelligence … I wanted to find out more about the mystery that was Ryuzaki. After around fifteen minutes, I wasn’t sure, I didn’t have a watch or phone with me remember, Ryuzaki and I arrived at a taxi.

We had had quite an enjoyable talk whilst walking, him about Wammy’s House and his favourite sweets, me about my interest in justice and my love of suits. Linking back to the sweets, I have never met a person who is more sweet toothed than Ryuzaki.

At this point, I had not seen him eat or drink anything, probably because I had only seen him for about thirty minutes at most, but I knew that he loved sweets. And how did I know this, may you ask? Because Ryuzaki, whilst walking to the taxi, started a ‘powerful’ speech on why strawberry cheesecake is better than banoffee pie.

I found this speech a little strange, no scrap that, extremely strange, but then again, I’m one to talk when it comes to weirdness around food. Last year, I became sick of having no friends and not having a life. I blamed it on everyone around me, though not outwardly.

In public, I was still Light Yagami, honours student and golden son, but in the privacy of my room, I took a very different identity. Using the Death Note, which if you remember, I used to solve deadly problems, I wrote the names of everyone with whom I hated and there were a lot of names in that book.

I was hoping that, since I was writing in a book called the ‘Death Note’, that everyone whose names were written in the book, would suddenly drop dead. They didn’t unfortunately, but that didn’t stop me from pretending that they did. When I was writing names in my ‘Death Note’, I referred to myself as ‘Kira’.

‘Kira’ is the Japanese take on the English word for killer. Let’s just say that Kira was a dramatic character. One time I was writing names in my ‘Death Note’, full Kira style, and I had a bag of my favourite food with me, potato chips. I took a potato chip and while I did that, I exclaimed, “I’ll take a potato chip AND EAT IT”, while eating the chip.

Needless to say, my sister Sayu was not threatened by my dramatic line, oh no. I heard her in fits of hysterical laughter straight after that. So Ryuzaki isn’t the only one who goes a little crazy around their favourite food.

We discussed our favourite music genres later that week, proof that no matter the topic, excluding my abandonment, I could talk to Ryuzaki about it. I knew that going with the strange frog crouching man earlier on was a good idea. He was a lot like me, minus the fact that I didn’t crouch like a frog, in a taxi of all places.

The taxi driver was probably very weirded out, I don’t blame him to be honest. Anyway, we eventually arrived at Rolledalle and, as soon as the taxi parked in front of the extravagant snow-white mansion-like hotel, I began to feel incredibly excited as to what was to come. Finally, something good was happening in this hellish day.


End file.
